


yram ydoolb

by Lil_Lizard_Leah



Series: Dark Mirror Verse [2]
Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Reality, Alternate Universe - Dark, Anal Play, Blood, Blood Kink, Bloodplay, Branding, Dark Side of Dimensions, Edgeplay, Evil, Improvised Sex Toys, Knifeplay, M/M, Mirror Universe, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex, Scarification, Smut, mild dub-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-21
Updated: 2019-05-21
Packaged: 2020-03-08 20:18:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18901918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lil_Lizard_Leah/pseuds/Lil_Lizard_Leah
Summary: Richie thinks knives can be fun, and Eddie is willing to play along, that is until things get a little more intense than he'd been expecting.~ can be read as a stand alone ~





	yram ydoolb

**Author's Note:**

> A few important notes: PLEASE heed the tags. If you are triggered by topics relating to self harm or violence, or very mild dub-con, this may not be the fic for you. I have tons of other Reddie content that is free of any upsetting topics! There’s no shame in bowing out from reading something that may upset you.
> 
> Secondly, do not take this fic as an example of healthy BDSM. The key rules of BDSM are to keep it Safe, Sane, and Consensual. This fic does not adhere to those rules because this takes place in a dark verse. The practices conducted here are not to be reproduced in real life.
> 
> If you’re interested in bondage, knife play, blood play, or any other type of edge play, PLEASE do your own research. Do not engage in these kinks (or any) until both you and your partner are thoroughly versed on how to stay safe, and the necessary aftercare involved.
> 
> And finally, shout out to anyone who gets the reference in the title! <3

“Dinner is on me tonight!” Richie burst through the door, projecting into his apartment to a very startled Eddie.

A small ‘fuck!’ could be heard from the kitchen, where Richie travelled after kicking off his boots, carrying two heavy bags of Chinese food.

He found Eddie huddled over their sink, abandoned vegetables to the right of him alongside a bloody knife.

“You made me cut myself, you dickhead!” Eddie shouted over his shoulder, brandishing his bleeding hand before putting it back under the cold water. He tried to get the blood to clear long enough to see how deep the cut was, but it was pooling up at a rate too quick for the water to wash away. With another mumbled curse he opened a drawer, pulling out a roll of gauze (of which they kept many in every room of the house) and began wrapping it around his hand.

“Don’t blame me for your shoddy knifesmanship.” Richie shrugged, placing his bags on the counter and beginning to unpack them.

“I thought tonight was my night for dinner. Did you really make me go through all of this for nothing?” Eddie asked exasperatedly.

“It was, but on the subway home I was sitting next to a man who was carrying the most delicious smelling food, which he so _generously_ agreed to give me after some convincing.” Richie reached behind himself, pulling a gun out from his pants and letting it clatter to the counter as evidence.

“Richieee.” Eddie groaned, stomping towards the counter and snatching the gun up. “I told you not to take my gun anymore. You’ve got shitty aim.”

“I do not; I _mean_ to miss when I’m shooting at you.”

“Mhm.” Eddie agrees sarcastically, unconvinced. He looks down at his injured hand, the gauze having already turned red in the short time since he applied it.

“I’m gonna have to re-wrap this before we eat.” Eddie complained.

“Let me do it.” Richie offered, to which Eddie eyed him suspiciously.

“…Why?” Eddie asked carefully, narrowing his eyes.

“Can’t a guy just want to help his boyfriend?” Richie batted his lashes innocently.

“A guy, yeah. You? No.”

“But you squirm so deliciously when I use the disinfectant.” Richie admitted, going from innocent to sultry in a moment flat.

Eddie glared at him before relenting, turning around without another word and starting down the hallway.

“Well? Come on then.” He shouted over his shoulder, hearing the excited footsteps pattering behind him.

 

After Richie had had his fun, and Eddie was re-bandaged, the two made their way back out to the kitchen and grabbed their food, flopping in front of the TV before laying things out on the coffee table.

“Gross, there’s shrimp in this.” Eddie complained, as he opened one of the mystery containers.

“I’m sorry Eds, I’ll be sure to ask the guy what he ordered next time before I rob him.” Richie drawled sarcastically.

Eddie chucked a piece of shrimp at him before continuing to open the rest of the containers.

They both took turns dumping contents on to their plates, choosing what appealed most to them and occasionally forcing each other to try the things the other didn’t want to try. By the end of it, Richie had loaded Eddie’s plate with shrimp, and Eddie had shoved enough tofu on to Richie’s to blanket the rest of his meal.

They ate in silence while they watched the news, chuckling at the criminals who’d been caught and discussing how they’d have pulled off the crime _without_ ending up on national television. At one point, however, someone they recognized popped up on the screen, causing Eddie to choke on a noodle.

Richie leaned forward in his seat as Eddie coughed beside him.

“Well fuck, Denbrough…” Richie murmured, staring at the mugshot of their best friend.

“When did this happen?” Eddie asked through a hoarse throat once he’d recovered.

“If you’d shut up, I could find out.” Richie grabbed the remote control, turning up the volume until it drowned out all else.

**“Earlier today police arrested long term suspect related to a series of murders, Bill Denbrough. Denbrough can be traced back to a murder as early as 2013 but had managed to stay off police suspects lists until earlier this year when he was linked to the murder of Tom Rogan. Detectives were able to connect him to six other un-solved murders after that. His suspected motivation for the crimes is his presumably unrequited love for one Beverly Marsh, as the victims having all been connected to her in one way or another. The most recent victim was Ms. Marsh’s ex-husband who had several charges himself: domestic violence, assault and battery, aggravated assault, and probation violation. Bill Denbrough has been put into custody and is awaiting a trial date.”**

“Tomorrow we’ll start brainstorming how to break him out. I’ll text the rest of the losers and let them know.” Richie stated, muting the TV and setting the remote down.

“Fucking Bill, always getting us into this shit; he makes a mess and we’ve gotta clean it up.”

“Well it’s better than letting him rot in prison with Henry Bowers as a guard, right?”

Eddie winced at the mention of their lifelong enemy; a corrupt cop who stayed above the law because he worked for it. He could get away with anything, and had on several occasions.

“Fine, but I’m not holding back from laying into him once we’ve got him back.” Eddie grumbled.

“As if you ever hold back.” Richie snorted, sending off a quick text to their group chat and re-pocketing his phone. He looked over to Eddie who was just finishing up his meal, only to notice a trickle of blood dancing down the skin of his forearm.

Richie reached forward, collecting the blood on his index finger and smearing it. Eddie glanced down at Richie’s hand, a frustrated curse following the sight of his (once again) sullied bandage.

“God damn it, Richie get the suture kit.” Eddie ground out through clenched teeth, anger bubbling up at the knowledge that he’d have to sew himself up with his non-dominant hand. That would certainly make for an interesting scar.

“Get it yourself, I’m not your maid.” Richie said snarkily as he stood from the couch and began carrying his plate to the kitchen.

“Ugh fine, then can we at least get drunk first?” Eddie called out, eyeing the messy coffee table and choosing to leave cleaning up until later.

Richie reappeared at the end of the couch, looking down at Eddie with a wicked grin and his hands behind his back.

“I’m really hoping you’ve got a bottle of whiskey behind your back.” Eddie wished hopefully, knowing too well that probably wasn’t the case.

“I have a better idea.” Richie announced confidently, pulling his hands out from behind his back and brandishing a glistening knife. “More cutting.”

“And how does that solve my problem?” Eddie deadpanned.

“It doesn’t, but it solves mine.” Richie pointed to the tent in his jeans that Eddie hadn’t noticed until now. He should have expected this; Richie always got excited when Eddie bled.

Eddie sighed, pushing himself up from the couch and walking up to Richie until they were merely a breath away.

“If we’re doing this, you better make it worth my while.” Eddie punctuated his threat by running his index finger across the blade, pulling it back to inspect the bead of blood. Content with the sharpness of the knife, Eddie brought his finger up to Richie’s lips, smearing the blood across them like a lipstick.

Eddie sauntered towards their bedroom, leaving Richie to trail after him excitedly.

 

It took a few minutes for Richie to set Eddie up how he wanted him, but in the end, it left Eddie handcuffed to a chain hanging from their ceiling, kneeling above their bed with his knees barely reaching the mattress.

Eddie’s arms tensed with the strain of practically hanging by his wrists, and they looked so delicious Richie couldn’t help but get ahead of himself, leaving a little slice along Eddie’s bicep before they had even begun.

Richie unclothed himself, taking a few steps around the bed and assessing Eddie like an animal stalking its prey. When he was behind Eddie and fully out of sight he hopped up on the mattress, the sudden movement causing Eddie to startle. Richie chuckled darkly, tracing the knife along the back of Eddie’s neck.

“Are you going to get on with it or am I just going to hang here until the circulation in my wrists gets cut off?” Eddie asked tiredly.

“If you start to lose circulation, I’ll cut you down.” Richie said.

“You can’t cut through chains, idiot.”

“That’s not what I meant. But don’t worry, you’d still look pretty without hands.” Richie whispered into Eddie’s ear, grinning as he shivered in response.

In one quick succession, Richie slipped the blade around to the front of Eddie’s neck and under the collar of his shirt, flicking it away and pulling down as it cut through the fabric with terrifying ease. Eddie’s tan skin was flushed pink, the colors intermingling under his flesh and shining out like a light. It was an unblemished canvas for Richie to paint on, his knife a brush and Eddie’s blood his paint.

Before he could create his masterpiece though, he needed to rid Eddie of the rest of his clothes. It only took Richie a few flicks of his wrist to expertly cut away all of Eddie’s garments, leaving them in a pile of scraps surrounding them. Richie rounded Eddie, kneeling in front of him and gazing down the length of his body appreciatingly.

Eddie’s cock was already straining, curving slightly to the left as if seeking out Richie’s attention. Richie used the flat edge of his knife to hold it up, smirking as a pearl of pre-cum bubbled to the surface and on to the polished metal.

Richie made eye contact with Eddie as he brought the knife up to his face and made a show of licking the cum off it.

“Richie-” Eddie whined, tugging on his chains impatiently. He’d never been one to wait for good things, always wanting them done fast so he could reap the benefits sooner. Richie acceded, bringing the knife to Eddie’s chest, just under his peck, and leaving a thin red line it its wake.

Eddie hissed, more out of pleasure than pain. The knife was sharp enough that it didn’t really hurt, just stung slightly in the aftermath. Eddie let his head hang, examining Richie’s work, and was disappointed to see only a few droplets of blood had come to the surface.

He couldn’t help but compare it to his hand, which had been unbandaged and left to bleed freely down his arm, exacerbated by the pressure from the handcuffs. He wanted more like that; more intensity, more depth, more _blood_.

“Why the long face? Not good enough for my little slut?” Richie asked condescendingly, tipping Eddie’s chin up with the knife so he was forced to look him in the eyes.

“Not enough…” Eddie echoed bashfully.

“What was that?” Richie goaded, pressing against Eddie’s chin a little harder, the edge of the knife threatening to break skin.

“I said it’s not enough.” Eddie ground out, fighting the blush on his cheeks.

“Oh, well, why didn’t you just say so?” Richie responded cheerfully, a flicker of madness fliting across his eyes before he skilfully swiped his arm out, grazing Eddie’s flesh with the knife and leaving a slash across his stomach.

The shock made Eddie’s jaw drop. When he peered down at his skin he saw rivulets streaming down his abs towards his groin, which twitched with excitement at the view.

After that Richie didn’t hold back. He marred up Eddie’s torso, front and back, with varying sizes and depths of cuts. Eddie’s entire body stung, vibrating with the pulse he could feel in every vein that had been sliced open. His skin was puffed up and irritated, a mixture of smeared and fresh blood coating warm beige skin.

Richie had just finished a clean cut along Eddie’s hip bone when the man in question shuttered above him. Richie looked up, a nasty, knowing smirk on his face.

“You getting close, you little whore? Just from this?” Richie mocked.

Eddie squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head back and forth but not trusting his voice to cooperate.

Richie laughed, turning his attention to Eddie’s cock, which was coated in blood and pre-cum. It was a beautiful sight, but not quite worthy of attention yet.

“One last finishing touch before I take care of you. Think you can hold out?” Richie sneered.

Eddie glared through his lashes, wanting nothing more than to spit in Richie’s condescending face. But he knew that wouldn’t bode well for him when he was chained up like this. So instead, he gritted his teeth and nodded minutely.

Richie leaned forward, bringing his knife to the top of Eddie’s peck, which he’d kept untouched with this exact intention in mind. With more grace than one should ever have with a knife, he carved out five little lines, pulling back to admire his work as it wept red.

“Now you’ll never forget who you belong to.” Richie stated, wiping a finger over the fresh cuts to smear the blood out of the way. Left behind were the letters “R” and “T”, only hesitating long enough to let Richie read them aloud before they were overflowing once again.

Eddie’s cock responded to the possessiveness, twitching out another thread of pre-cum. As much as Eddie would fight it, argue against it, would rather _die_ before admitting it, at the end of the day he took comfort in the fact that he was Richie’s.

Satisfied with his work, Richie shuffled off the bed and towards their walk-in closet.

They had refurbished the walk-in to act as a vault of sorts, holding all their most important possessions. It’s where they kept their money, their weapons, and some of their more intricate or high-end sex toys.

Richie disappeared for a moment before returning with a cocky grin and a pair of silver gloves on his hands. He slapped his palms together, a muffled metallic sound ringing through the room.

They’d only made use of those gloves on one other occasion. They were cut-resistant gloves made from stainless-steel mesh, designed so the wearer couldn’t injure themselves when using sharp blades.

Eddie’s brain tried to connect the dots, figure out what Richie’s plan was, but his head was swimming from arousal and blood loss.

“Richie, what are you…” Eddie trailed off when Richie recollected the knife from where he’d left it on the bed, this time grasping it by its blade. He seemed to be inspecting the handle, devious thoughts flitting across his eyes that Eddie couldn’t discern.

It all clicked once Richie leaned over their bedside table, grabbing their bottle of lube and uncapping it.

“Richie, no.” Eddie tried to sound stern, his heartbeat suddenly hammering in his chest. He tried to wiggle around, a frivolous attempt at getting free. He knew it wouldn’t work, he was the one who rigged up the chains after all, and he did a _damn_ good job at making sure whoever was hooked up wouldn’t be able to get down.

Richie ignored his objections completely, moving closer to Eddie on the bed and staring him down.

“I swear to fucking god, I will slit your throat where you sleep if you go anywhere near my ass with that.”

“Is that a threat or a promise?” Richie purred lowly.

Once they were only a breath away, Richie poured some lube out over the handle of the knife, holding it in front of Eddie’s face so he was forced to watch.

Eddie’s eyes kept darting between the knife and Richie’s face, struggling to decide whether swallowing his pride and pleading was worth it. On the one hand, he wasn’t a little bitch. But on the other… he didn’t need one slip of the hand connecting his asshole to his urethra.

As Richie’s hand disappeared behind Eddie’s back, the decision was made for him.

“Richie no- don’t you dare- I’ll fucking-” He was promptly cut off as the blunt curve was pressed up against his hole. The lube made it cold and uninviting, and Eddie clenched unintentionally in response.

“The more you fight it the more it’s going to hurt.” Richie tutted.

Eddie eyed the distance between himself and Richie, trying to calculate if he could make the lunge for Richie’s throat without his restraints pulling him back. It was too late though; any sudden movement now could result in a deep slice where he didn’t want one.

“Fine.” Eddie growled. “Just get on with it then.”

Richie didn’t hesitate to follow Eddie’s words, pressing the handle up within him with little warning.

It wasn’t particularly large, probably about the size of some of their smaller dildos, but with zero prep it still stung.

“Agh fuck!” Eddie hissed, arching his back away from the sensation. The sudden jerk made his limbs burn, bringing movement to his body which had been straining in a stationary position for 20 minutes. It sent new waves of agony to the slices in his skin, and bile threatened to rise at the combination of so much pain so suddenly.

Eddie forced himself to close his eyes, focusing on his breathing. Steady inhale, hold… 2… 3… 4… exhale. The key to getting through these situations was keeping his cool. The second he began to panic, or focused too much on the pain, his senses became overwhelmed and tried to shut down.

As Eddie focused on calming down and re-centering himself, he could feel Richie’s breath against his neck. He was mumbling things into Eddie’s skin that he didn’t pay much attention to, but the steady sound of Richie’s voice helped to calm his nerves.

The stimulation in his ass was starting to feel good. The handle of the knife was long enough to reach his prostate whenever Richie hit the right angle, causing a slow build of pleasure that was beginning to overshadow the pain. Without meaning to, Eddie let a little moan slip.

"Is someone finally beginning to enjoy themselves?” Richie teased. “Look how much precum you're leaking now that your slut hole finally has something to clench around.”

Eddie looked down to see that Richie was right, his cock was dripping wet and red at its head, twitching in excitement every time Eddie felt a new sting of pain. His brain and his body were in a war for dominance over his pain tolerance.

Richie repositioned himself so he was lower, his face level with Eddie’s chest. Through hooded lids, Richie looked up at Eddie, locking on to eye contact before leaning in and taking a nipple into his mouth.

Eddie moaned immediately; the sensation too good to hold it in. His nipples had always been one of his most sensitive erogenous zones, and Richie so often forgot to pay attention to them, too wrapped up in his own pleasure. But in that moment, Richie was making up for every single time he’d neglected them.

He pinched the pink nub between his teeth, pulling back until Eddie’s skin was stretched as far as it’d go. It was so intense it felt like Eddie was hooked up to nipple clamps, but he had the added bonus of Richie’s warm, soft tongue teasing his peak. Richie let go, watching as Eddie’s skin snapped back against itself, mottled and wet.

He moved on to Eddie’s other nipple as he increased the pace of the knife, thrusting it deeper into Eddie’s hole. Eddie’s breath was becoming shaky, along with his legs.

Richie began lapping along the slices he’d made, biting at the flesh and teasing out more blood from the cuts that had dried up. He caught the dribbles on his tongue, savoring the bitter taste of iron. When he lifted his head back up to regard Eddie with a smirk, he had blood smeared around his mouth.

Eddie wanted to snort, absently thinking it looked like a badly done last minute Halloween makeup job, but his lungs couldn’t manage a laugh, his breath already shallow and weak.

He knew he was going to cum soon. Richie had been consistently hitting his prostate for a few minutes, the pressure and tempo solid and steady enough to make Eddie’s toes curl.

“Richie, I- I’m-” Eddie tried to stutter out a warning, his throat dry and a haze beginning to surround his vision.

“What, are you gonna cum? Already?” Richie patronized.

Eddie’s anger mixed with his desperation, watering it down enough to let him sacrifice his ego.

“Yes, yes please- I need to- _please_ Richie-”

“So pathetic.” Richie scoffed. But despite his words, he still relented, bringing his free hand to Eddie’s cock and stroking a few times.

Eddie came with a shrill cry, the sound cracking and fizzling out at the end. He felt the pulse in his cock and the throb in his ass, and then everything went black.

 

Eddie’s not sure how long he was out, but when he awoke, he was resting against his pillow. He looked down at the sheets, still stained red with his blood and wet to the touch, so he couldn’t have black out for long. The next thing he registered was Richie laying beside him, his finger lazily tracing along Eddie’s stomach, where there was a small pool of blood tinted semen.

“Ew, Richie!”

Richie seemed to have been unaware of Eddie’s regained consciousness until then, startling momentarily as he looked up at him like a kid who’d been caught doing something wrong.

“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty.” Richie crooned, removing his hand from the mess on Eddie’s belly and wiping it on the sheets.

“How long was I out for?” Eddie asked, noticing his voice was coarse and attempting to clear it.

“About two minutes, give or take.”

“And you thought instead of trying to wake me up, you’d finish on me instead?” Eddie cocked an eyebrow, pointing at the cum that covered his stomach.

“Well, I took you down first.” Richie rolled his eyes, as if Eddie was missing the bigger picture.

“Thanks for not letting me hang lifelessly from our ceiling, I guess?” Eddie responded sarcastically.

“You are _so_ welcome.” Richie sent Eddie an annoyingly charming wink before bouncing off the bed, disappearing into their hallway.

Eddie closed his eyes, noticing the way his head was pounding and his body ached. He wiggled his wrists experimentally, wincing immediately at the feeling. He peeked one eye open, hesitantly bringing an arm into view and gasping when he saw the bruising that was leftover from the handcuffs. It was atrocious, but also… mesmerizing. Eddie was tracing the galaxies under his skin when Richie walked back into the room.

“Drink this.” Richie gave little warning before he chucked a water bottle at Eddie, which he surprisingly caught with little effort.

Eddie blinked at it like he’d never seen water in his life. Really, what he’d never seen in his life was Richie taking care of him. It’s true that things didn’t usually get as intense as they had that day, but Eddie was used to always doing the aftercare himself.

“What, are you allergic to water suddenly?” Richie asked as he climbed back into bed.

“Is it drugged?” Eddie asked skeptically.

“Oh my god, you fucking baby.” Richie grabbed the water bottle from Eddie, cracking open the sealed cap and taking a swig before offering it back to him.

“Now drink. I don’t need you passing out on me again.”

Eddie eyed Richie, his chest feeling uncomfortably aflutter; a sensation he was only used to associating with a new kill or a shiny weapon.

He took the bottle wordlessly and chugged it, ignoring the tiny streams of water that escaped out the corners of his mouth and trickled down his chin. He pulled away from the lip of the bottle with a gratified sigh, not having realized how much he’d needed that.

“Thanks.” Eddie mumbled.

“Don’t go soft on me, Eddie boy.” Richie warned, a lilt of tenderness in his voice.

They held eye contact for a moment before Richie cleared his throat, rolling on to his back and propping his arms up behind his head.

“So, who’s turn is it to do laundry?” He asked, nodding towards the bedsheets.

“Well, technically yours since it was my night for dinner.” Eddie drawled.

“But since _I_ brought home food…” Richie let the end of his sentence trail off, the insinuation evident.

“Fuck off, asshole. Look at the state you left me in.” Eddie gestured to his body, his weakened arm protesting the movement.

“I can’t. If I look at you any longer, I’ll have to jump you for round two.”

“Richie, no-”

“How do you feel about spoons?”

“We’re not doing this-”

“Forks? Or maybe a ladle is more your style? A spatula-”

“I fucking hate you.”

“So it’s decided, spork it is!”


End file.
